


The Massage Chair

by wobblytitans



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Jealous!Doctor, Kissing, Romance, TARDIS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wobblytitans/pseuds/wobblytitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which River is enjoying her massage chair, and the Doctor is jealous. She could've just done as he'd asked. But where was the fun that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Massage Chair

"—And they wanted to make buttons out of all my bones. All—my—bones, all of them. That's the Giratures' for you, exceptionally fantastic taste in bones, but—" The Doctor paused, turning about. "River? River? Where have you gone?"

He frowned. Old narrowed eyes swept over the furniture store. An elderly couple inspecting a cat-vomit coloured sofa, a banana-wielding boy launching himself at a wall, a salesman with a comb-over picking his nose, TARDIS—his TARDIS—looking inconspicuous—nope, scratch that—a bright blue beacon in the fake minimalist bathroom, and—

No River.

The Doctor dropped to the floor. Balanced on only his hands and the balls of his feet, horizontal and barely touching the worn carpet, he scanned the perimeter again; cursing loudly as his hair fell into his eyes. Then he heard her moaning.

"River!" He squeaked as his ears turned pink.

A girl with blonde pigtails stared and pointed at the madman as he scrambled to his feet and ran towards the sounds. His River. Her moaning. Sounds currently not caused by him. Panic. It was the time for him to panic and run and stop those—those indecent sounds currently not caused by him.

Why were they even in a store in 2012? There were no singing towers or edible lights or any sort of grand anything for that matter. There was nothing. River and him, a whole night out, all of time and space, everything that had happened and will happen before them and there they were. Sydney, Australia. 2012. In some bloody store called Harvey Norman.

Aha. He found her, River Song—cheeky and impossible River Song—looking beautiful and out of place in that shimmering gold dress. Sighing, eyes shut, relaxed, lying back in a—he sonicked it—

"A massage chair!"came his appalled outburst.

River responded with a low chuckle, her eyes remaining closed.

His eyes narrowed at the suspicious machine touching his River, the machine that was eliciting those indecent sounds. But really, who was he to be—the Doctor paused, and swung back and forth, knowing the word but refusing to admit it. Or say it. Or think about it. Alright, so he was jealous. Jealous of a stupid machine in a stupid store on Earth in 2012. Ridiculous. He knew who she was. He knew who she would become. She wasn't exactly his and nor was he actually hers, but then again, really they—whatever. Stupid Doctor. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Forget it. Just forget it.

"River!"

"Sweetie." Her lips quirked up into that maddening smile, her eyes still shut as she mocked him. The Doctor felt something in his head whizz and pop and fizzle as River hummed with pleasure as the massage chair continued its mission.

Stuffing his sonic screwdriver back into the pocket of his tweed jacket, the time lord bent forward on the arms of the chair, bringing his face right up to hers. His eyes searched hers but her eyes were still closed, their noses brushing. He moved a hand up to her hair to tug gently on one of those corkscrew curls, and spoke, quiet and demanding, "River, get off this fiendish contraption this instant."

At the tone, one of her eyes cracked open, and met with his. He had that look again, as though he were solving a puzzle. He peered at her, his mouth slightly open, something stirring in those pools of green. She closed her eyes again, still smiling.

The Doctor stepped back, straightening again. A deep inhale and exhale.

"Did you not hear me, River?"

"Oh, I heard you, Sweetie." She said, opening her eyes this time as she let out a surprised gasp as the machine did something followed by a loud moan. A moan so loud that George and Ann, the elderly couple previously seen inspecting a sofa the colour of cat-vomit, turned to stare.

"River. Stop that. It's—" Again, her lips parted. This time it was a soft groan intended for his ears alone. She knew what it did to him and he knew she knew what it did to him.

"River."

She popped open an eye again, gazing at him. Her Doctor, standing in front of her; fidgeting, wringing his hands. There was a dark glint in his eyes that burned hot and bright yet sent a chill up her spine. She shouldn't challenge him. He was a dangerous man, after all. The mere mention of his name sent the cruelest of creatures into hiding. It was one of many things that she fancied about this younger incarnation. How impossibly child-like he could be with that giddy grin and that exuberant air. Few would expect to see that deep dark storm lying just beneath the surface, the silliness just made it all the more of a shock to one's system.

River could've just done as he'd asked. But, where was the fun that?

"Mmm, put one of these in my prison cell and I would never leave."

"Ab—solutely, not." The Doctor fished his sonic screwdriver out from his pocket and pointed it at the massage chair.

She was faintly aware of everything, including the machine, shutting off with a loud bang followed by a crackle noise. Long fingers closed around her wrists, jerking her up and away from her seat.

"Do—"

"Come along, River. Time to run."

All the lights had gone out, and everyone in the store gawked at the ceiling. River's wild curls bounced around her as they ran, the Doctor's grip on her hand tight. As her heels clicked on the white tiles of the fake display bathroom and they came to a stop, River laughed. "You shorted-out the entire electrical circuit."

With a click of his fingers the door of the TARDIS swung open.

"Yes, well, you wouldn't get off that damned machine," the Doctor replied in a tone she had often used on him.

He pulled her into the TARDIS, slammed the door and pressed her flush against it.

"River, River, River," murmured the Doctor, marveling at how she seemed to glow in that gold dress. "What am I going to do with you?" His head tipped and breathed hotly down her neck as he spoke while his fingers played with her hair.

River bit back a smile. She loved it when he was like this. Her Doctor. Instead of responding with words, her hands caught the lapels of his tweed jacket and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Swiftly, his hands flew up to hold her face as he relaxed and slowly leaned into her body, losing himself in her. The universe, suspended from the ceiling of existence, froze in his mind. He could no longer see its turn, could no longer feel it revolving around the centre of time. It was just River and him and no one else.

In an attempt to bring him even closer, River's hands abandoned the lapels of his jacket and intertwined themselves into his soft hair, tugging gently and making him into moan into her mouth. One of his hands reached down to grasp her hip, and they broke apart.

Breathing heavily, his eyes bored into hers, burning like the heart of the sun, searching her own for something. Consent, perhaps? How impossible he could be.

"Yes, Sweetie."

His face broke into that infuriating child-like grin as his arms encircled her waist, and his lips founds hers again.

River giggled.

She knew the massage chair would work.


End file.
